Always A Pleasure || H.S. [COMPLETE]

Eighty-Nine

Thinking back on it, Katherine had most definitely been the biggest temptation Harry had ever come across in his life and the night he crossed the line with her by asking her to have dinner with him was the first real crack in his resolve when it came to her. He never had a chance of holding back after that.

...

As Harry sat next to Katherine at the center island, eating the dinner she skillfully prepared that evening, she quickly ravaged all of his senses. From the sight and smell of her, to the soft cadence of her voice and laughter, to the way their hands brushed against one another's as they reached for the same thing.

It only left Harry with one unsatisfied sense that he craved to fulfill in the deepest darkest depths inside of him— he wanted to taste her. He wanted to know how she tasted in that small expanse from her shoulder up to her earlobe. He wanted to know how her tongue tasted as it deliciously tangled with his. But most importantly he wanted to taste her in places that he only allowed himself to think about when he was laying alone in bed at night.

But he knew that would have to stay a fantasy only in his mind because if he were to get even one taste of her, he'd never be able to stop. He'd ruin her. He'd take that bright sunshine inside of her and crush it, no matter how hard he tried not to.

Harry was playing with fire, dancing in the flames. He was gonna get burned and there was no doubt in his mind that he would take Katherine down with him. From the moment he met her, he was certainly attracted to her, but being that close to her after weeks of her living in his home, took his obsession to a whole other level.

Every fine detail of her was entrancing — from her wide, curious eyes looking back into his; to her full pink lips as she brought her fork up to them; to her porcelain skin that looked so incredibly soft and enticing which caused a gnawing, itching, aching urge inside of him to reach out and touch her.

But he didn't. He was good. Even as he self-sabotaged his recovery and broke all of his own rules by inviting her to spend any time with him, he was still good.

The destruction of his mental faculties when it came to Miss Mason continued as he poured them each another glass of wine after dinner as they stood in the kitchen together.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. The fact that this woman was single was a crime against logic. In the weeks that she had worked for him, he had yet to find a flaw in her — albeit his clothing might say differently as she had ruined a brand new, very expensive Armani blazer that was finely tailored to him specifically.

When she told him about the ruined garment, it confused him when the tiny spark of anger he first felt at the news hadn't blazed out of control as he thought about it. No. What he felt was discomfort over the anguish in her expression as she revealed what she had done by mistake. He didn't like seeing her that way, and he didn't know what that meant. She was a conundrum to him.